City of Risen Demons
by AlaynaRoo
Summary: When Jace and Sebastian are connected in a ritual of Lilith's vision, the result is not exactly what the demon princess had desired. Instead of Sebastian gaining the ability to control Jace in his quest to rule the world, the effect is reversed, and Jace's angel blood ends up changing Sebastian instead. But can he be forgiven?
1. Ritual

_We are one now, little brother, you and I, _Sebastian said._  
__We are one._

When Jace heard Sebastian's voice in his head, it felt oddly welcome. It seemed to run through his blood, through the blood that passed through Sebastian's hand into his, like a fiery chain. He looked at Sebastian, who was staring at Jace with some canine hunger, like a wolf would look at a rabbit before it pounced on its prey. Strangely, Jace felt a mirroring grin form on his lips, and, as his mind grew more filled with some dark matter, pouring into him like demon ichor, poisoning his brain, he _liked_ it.

Suddenly, a sharp pain sliced its way through Jace's chest, and Sebastian must have felt it too, because the other boy suddenly crumpled into a heap of blood-stained limbs. Jace stared in shock as he watched Sebastian twitch slightly, his body looking like an electrical pulse was being sent up and down it, and then was motionless. Jace found himself wanting to kneel down next to the other boy and hold him, revive him even, and the dark matter inside his head suddenly doubled in volume, flooding up over his head, his eyes, his ears, where he saw it spiral around like black mist. Red joined it as it swirled around in a beautifully terrible dance. Changing direction, the mass disappeared into Sebastian briefly, filling his body with one last spasm before shooting up into the air, through the ceiling and disappearing.

Jace blinked. Now that the haze was gone, he looked at Sebastian and felt the same insurmountable rage boil up inside of him he'd always associated with Sebastian. Looking down at his chest, Jace saw that the red rune had disappeared with not even a white scar left to prove it ever existed. But now was his chance to kill him, really kill him, once and for all. _Lilith can't save you now, demon boy, _Jace snarled inside his head. He darted over to where his father's silver dagger where Sebastian had knocked it aside. Grabbing it with his left hand, Jace spun around and with a mangled cry—

Stopped. Jace froze mid swing, dagger still held high above head, poised and ready to bring it down onto Sebastian's pale chest, to stab until he was sure there was no way for anyone to bring him back.

But Sebastian had woken up. The boy now lay propped on his elbow, arm half-heartedly blocking the oncoming blow. But something was different. His eyes, once as black as the demon's who had called herself Sebastian's mother, were the exact same shade as Clary's. Clary, who said she'd be back in five minutes.

Sebastian's eyes were green.

* * *

Hey guys! Rights go to Cassie Clare, especially the excerpts used in any of my writing. Concept goes to me, though it's probably not too original.

Please Read and Review! Enjoy!


	2. Jonathan

The dagger clattered to the floor, the sound resounding against the old walls. Jace stared in disbelief at the crouched boy before him. The boy who had killed Max. The boy who had kissed Clary when he knew she was his sister. The boy who would have raised Hell if he had the chance.

The boy who crouched before him now, his green, green eyes innocent and pleading and so familiar. All Jace could see was Clary, it almost reminded him of one of his nightmares. Himself with a knife raised, ready to bring it down and kill her. He couldn't, he wouldn't. Jace dropped to his knees, eye level to the broken boy. Sebastian lowered his head, his green eyes disappearing behind his pale eyelids.

"Sebastian?" Jace whispered. He half-hoped that the other boy would raise his head again and reveal the black eyes along with the matching hatred and ferociousness. Instead, the green-eyed stranger snapped his head up, staring into Jace like he was seeing the world for the first time.

"My name is Jonathan," he breathed, and then, without another word, collapsed onto the bloody floor.

Jace gaped, still in shock. Even Sebastian's—Jonathan's voice was different. The demon inside him, the demon that Valentine had made him, the demon his mother had hated, was gone. A new and unimaginable future of happiness for the Frays flashed through Jace's mind. Sebastian was gone. Jonathan could start over.

But then another image flashed in his head. The Clave. They would never believe Jonathan that he truly was healed, that Sebastian wouldn't come out of nowhere and slaughter them all. All they could see was Valentine's son.

Suddenly, Clary's last words to Jace repeated themselves. "_I'll be right back. Five minutes."_ She would be back soon. Clary and the others. And Jace wasn't nearly prepared enough to explain to them what happened. They won't be able to keep it a secret from the Clave, and once the Clave was involved, Jonathan would be doomed. Hearing voices, Jace tried to think quickly. Grabbing his father's dagger again and stuffing it in his belt, he did the first thing that popped in his head. He remembered how Sebastian had vanished right before his eyes before.

He grabbed Jonathan and turned the ring on the other boy's finger, disappearing to an unknown location.

* * *

An unpleasant sensation like going through an unstable Portal washed over Jace's body. The ring being on Jonathan's finger, Jace assumed he would have no control over the destination, and it seemed he was right. He stood from the crouch he'd been in and looked around the foreign environment.

He was standing in the den of what looked like a modern Parisian-style apartment. The room was lit by shimmering lights along the ceiling with a black-stone decoration, giving the room a warm yet mysterious aura, while an elegant fireplace sat framed in washed chrome underneath a flat-screen television. The furniture was mostly black leather, with a sofa, glass coffee table, and two reclining chairs, one of which he laid Jonathan. A glass, spiraling staircase in the corner told Jace that there was another floor to the house.

Apart from the television, the whole room gave off the eloquently vile stench of Valentine. The glass table and black décor had the same sharpness and viciousness that Valentine had. It gave Jace chills up his spine, reminding him of his father's voice, the smooth way he had of convincing everyone that what he did was right.

Jace shivered, shrugging off his thoughts of Valentine, when suddenly he heard a groan come from Jonathan. Instinctively tensing, Jace took his hand off his belt, where he had reflexively grabbed the hilt of his dagger. Instead, Jace tried to relax, remembering that Jonathan was different now.

But what if he wasn't? What if whatever had changed him from Sebastian to Jonathan had faded, just like Jace's rune from Lilith had healed so quickly, even without an _iratze_? Panicking, Jace knelt down and began to rip at the shirt Jonathan was wearing—a simple black t-shirt, almost soaked in partially-dried blood—to see if there was the same rune that had been on Jace. He couldn't remember, but when he pulled back the newly-torn fabric, he saw nothing but the pale, lean chest, lined with faded runes, but none that were red, coursing with purplish veins, like Jonathan was sick or something. Jace frowned, relieved.

"Eager, aren't we?" a smooth voice snickered as Jace saw Jonathan's torso pulse from the small laugh. "I didn't know you wanted to undress me so badly. You could have just asked, you know. No need to wait until I was asleep." Jace's blood turned cold. That was not the voice of the scared boy who said his name was Jonathan. That was the voice he was more familiar with, the one who was raised by the murderer, who commanded demons even to call one his mother.

The voice continued, though this time, to Jace's surprise, it sounded… concerned almost. "Are you alright, Jace? Or do you just like to stare at my chest? Not that that's a problem with me, but aren't you taken? And by my sister, too?" Sebastian almost sounded like he was joking in a manner like the two of them were friends, like they're known each other forever and that this was the way they teased one another. Also, he called him "Jace", which was a rare thing, usually replaced my little brother or angel boy or something or that variety. Jace's face wrinkled, trying to work out his next move. Should he talk to Sebastian? Should he kill him? Would that even work, with them being connected? Were they still connected?

Jace stood up, backing away from the chair where Jonathan—Sebastian—whoever he was sat. The other boy looked up at him, and Jace finally saw his eyes again.

They were still green.

Jace was surprised, but he didn't show it. Instead, he shifted his weight to the side, making himself appear comfortable. Indifferent. "I would have thought you were against anyone being with Clary. You know, being the overprotective brother and whatnot." Jace gave Jonathan a smirk, while in his head he still was calculating the best way to approach the other boy to see if Sebastian was really gone.

Jonathan gave Jace a tiny sneer in return, but it was half-hearted. What replaced it was a look like he had just remembering something he'd lost the day before. "I remember," he whispered, looking up at Jace with a broken expression. "I remember everything he did. It was like I was trapped in a brain while my body moved without me. For seventeen years. But I remember everything; all the dealing with demons, and murders. And he _liked_ it. He thought it was so hilarious, all of it." Jonathan stared at Jace, really stared through him, into him, and breathed, "I am so, so sorry."


	3. Sickness

Jace's mind was spinning with confusion as he attempted to decipher the other boy's words. One minute it was like he had been Sebastian, with the teasing words and smooth, persuading voice. The next, there was Jonathan talking about watching Sebastian tear down the world and how he was _sorry_ about that.

A scowl formed on Jace's face, and he turned to whoever was sitting in front of him harshly. "Prove it," he snarled. He felt his temper rise up, the biting anger he used on Maryse when he was younger when he was afraid but wanted to sound tough, just to get her to leave him alone. "Prove that you're _sorry _for Sebastian and all the terrible, murderous things he's done. Prove you're not still that demon, because you can't expect me to hear one apology and suddenly feel okay with skipping through daisies with my new best friend _Jonathan Morgenstern_, who-"

"Here." Jonathan showed no sign of fright or even annoyance, as Sebastian might have. Instead, he looked calm, his face placid and almost innocent. Jace stopped mid-soliloquy to look down and see what the other boy was presenting him. It was a sensor.

Jace slowly took the sensor from Jonathan and sat down on the glass table to examine it, frowning. "What's this for?" he asked without looking up.

Jonathan's voice sounded aggravated. "It's a sensor. Surely you've had experience-"

"I know what it is," Jace snapped. "I'm just not sure why you would think it would be of use to me. It traces demon energies, not demon blood." He pointed it toward Jonathan, and, as he suspected, nothing happened. "See? You wouldn't have set it off anyway."

"But I would have," Jonathan insisted. "Our, ah, my father altered this sensor so he could track me while I went off on his…errands."

Jace frowned again. "He tracked you? That's-that's not important. It still doesn't prove anything. You could be lying. You-"

"_You_ could keep on yelling at me like this, or you could acknowledge that even if there was some way to definitively know if there's still _him_ in me—which believe me, I want to know as much as you do—you still wouldn't trust me either way. So what's next?' Jonathan stared at Jace, demanding and answer, for him to agree. Because that was the truth wasn't it? Jace barely trusted Jordan, let alone Sebastian.

Jace sighed, giving up. "You're right." He saw Jonathan's eyebrows rise, like he was surprised Jace had admitted defeat. In fact, Jace was surprised Jace admitted defeat. "You're not possessed, because I know how it feels to be possessed. But there's always the possibility that you'll use my overwhelming generosity of not killing you now to stab me in the back later. So I want to get this business out of the way quickly."

Jonathan smiled. "So you can't kill me. You can't tell if I'm a demon. And you can't leave me out of fear that I'll tear down the world. So you're stuck with me." He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You're funny Jace, I'll give you that."

"Maybe my humor will save my life then," Jace answered with minimal amusement. "Give me your ring," he told Jonathan. "I have an idea."

Jace opened his mouth to speak again, but before he could, Jonathan suddenly doubled over in front of him and puked all over his shoes.

* * *

"_There's nothing up there but a lot of blood and broken glass. They're both gone, Simon. Jace is gone…"_

* * *

After getting Jonathan to the bathroom, Jace succeeding in getting covered in puke. Jonathan had thrown up multiple rounds of the stuff, which was mixed with a questionable amount of blood. Once the other boy was settled with his face in the toilet, Jace became overwhelmed with the smell of the blood and gastric juice on his skin, causing him to almost double over himself. Instead, he quickly stepped into the elegant shower he stood next to and stripped, ridding himself of the revolting, puked-covered clothes, and scrubbed himself clean. By the time Jonathan had finally stopped upchucking his guts, Jace was towel-drying his newly-washed hair.

"Feeling better?" Jace asked Jonathan with a hint of amusement in his voice. He smirked at the other boy who, to Jace's satisfaction, had a dribble of saliva down his chin. For the first time since Jace had met him, Jonathan didn't look as polished as he always presented himself.

"Just peachy," Jonathan answered sarcastically, wiping his chin with his arm, which didn't help much, admittedly. "And you, angel boy?"

Jace ignored the spiritless jest. "_I_ smell like lilacs. _You_ smell like a Drevak demon. What do you think?" Jonathan scowled again. "I'll just leave you alone to clean all _this_ up," he gestured around Jonathan's body. Smiling, Jace picked up his dirty clothes and, holding them as far away as possible, headed toward the door, towel still around his waist.

"You're enjoying this way too much," Jonathan called to Jace's back.

"Yes I am!" Jace said cheerily, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

For the next two weeks, Jonathan was confined to his room upstairs, moving only between the bed and the bathroom. Jace busied himself by exploring the apartment, which he considered more of a bachelor pad, though whenever he attempted to picture Valentine here hanging out with his Circle friends, nothing came up. After the first few days, Jonathan told him how to get the front door to appear, and Jace took to going out in the morning and walking around different cities. On the first day, he simply opened the door and walked out, eventually figuring out that he was in Amsterdam, the cherry blossoms getting swept up around him by the breeze. He sat down at a small café with a book he'd found in the apartment. It had been at the bottom of a chest full of women's clothes, so he assumed it was Jocelyn's, not Valentine's. The book, more like an album, was filled with pictures of Jocelyn and Valentine, probably in the early years of their dating. Luke was there a lot, and he even saw a picture with Maryse and Robert Lightwood. Each time he saw Valentine's face, it was like his eyes were boring into Jace's, the ghost of his father demanding to be avenged. Jace shut the book.

His finger touched the ring in his pocket. It had been the ring Jonathan used to teleport places. He had taken it from Jonathan on the excuse that Jace wanted to go places more conveniently, though the real reason was that Jace didn't want to come back to the apartment one day and find Jonathan had run off. He didn't really want to use the ring, considering he was in a place full of mundanes, but also because he wasn't exactly sure how it worked. It could have been faerie working, Jace wasn't sure, but he wasn't in the best terms with the Queen and didn't want to chance appearing in another place with tentacles for arms. Jace dropped the ring back into his pocket.

He stepped into the apartment and walked up the stairs robotically, mind still pondering about the album. He stepped into Jonathan horrifically disorganized room to see the other boy seemingly asleep in the bed. Glancing around, Jace realized he could seize this opportunity to find out more about Jonathan. Swiftly, Jace leaped over a sideways chair—he gave up on trying to straighten Alec's room years ago, so why should he fix this one?—to the dresser where there were a number of boxes and things on top. Opening the largest box, Jace saw a bit of feathers, and then a small claw. It was a bird. Jace picked up the thing and held it up. Specifically, the bird was a falcon. Just like the falcon Jace had had as a child. Like the one he trained, loved. This one was obviously a different bird, but the same rules had applied for Jonathan, he guessed. The only difference was, Jonathan had succeeded in Valentine's test. His work on display. The boy who killed the falcon. Jace looked in the mirror behind the dresser. And the boy who couldn't.

"That better be a souvenir you're holding, not my falcon," Jonathan's slinky voice called. Why did he always have to sound so refined, even when he was sick? Jace quickly returned the stuffed bird to its box and turned around.

"How do you feel?" he asked coolly.

Jonathan showed no sign that he cared about Jace's change of subject. "Well, considering we couldn't ever get a Silent Brother to look at me, I'd say not dead. Which is good. To me, at least," he added, reading Jace's mind.

Jace sighed. He never knew how to talk to Jonathan, who seemed like…like himself. The way he spoke, the way his humor flowed, it was all very unnerving. He seemed to know everything about Jace, but Jace barely knew a thing about him.

Except he did. Ever since the ritual on the roof, Jace had felt this strange connection to Jonathan, like he understood his every movement. Almost like he felt with Alec. Like _parabatai_. But the difference was that Alec brought out the best in Jace. Jonathan seemed to only fuel the qualities in him most people hated.

"Here's my diagnosis of you," Jace said to Jonathan easily. "The good news is, your skin couldn't any paler than it was, so you look the same." Jonathan scowled playfully. Jace continued, "The bad news is," he made his voice sound mock-serious. "I'm afraid you have demon pox."

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I do not have demon pox, Jace."

Jace's eyes twinkled. "Oh poor Jonathan, see here, but you do. No denying it. Tragic." He shook his head. "Naughty boy."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "I_ don't_."

Jace held up his hands, his grin ferocious. He was having too much fun with this, he realized too late. "Alright, alright," he conceded. "But if it isn't the pox, then what is it?"

Jonathan shrugged, and Jace saw the wheels turning in his mind. It was like he could see exactly what Jonathan was thinking. How he'd pondering that question all day. How he truly wanted to prove himself to Jace. "Possibly," Jonathan contemplated, "Possibly the puking is a side effect of my body having an issue with the whole lack-of-demon-blood-suddenly thing. Hasn't adapted yet. Thinks this pure blood is poison or whatever, and is trying to get rid of it. Maybe?"

Jace considered Jonathan's idea. It made sense. Perfect sense actually. Like if you get bit by a demon, the sickness that ensues because of the blood inside you. Only reversed. Jace found himself wanting to believe Jonathan, really, really wanting to. His mind felt swayed in Jonathan's favor ever since the connection started. He wondered if it worked the other way as well. "Maybe," he agreed.


	4. Idea

After the two weeks were up, Jonathan deemed himself well enough to begin moving again. When Jace was skeptical, he insisted that because he hadn't taken a nap in two days and hadn't puked in three, he was sure of his stable health. Jace concluded to allowing him house privileges.

From Jace's perspective, he was getting slightly scared at how invested in Jonathan's health he found he was. Over the two weeks, the two boys had hung out a lot in between Jace's wanderings around the latest town the apartment had drop into. They'd found they both were quite apt at a game Jace had found in a closet, Cards Against Humanity, though neither had heard of it before, nor understood some of the references.

"So what's this idea of yours?" Jonathan asked after coming down for breakfast on the first day of his proclaimed health.

"What?" Jace was making eggs for himself, slightly distracted. "What idea?"

Jonathan sat down on the stool by the counter. "The idea you told me you had before I rudely interrupted you by showing you the contents of my stomach."

Jace paused a moment, remembering, and then grinned. "Ah yes, that was pretty rude, wasn't it? Better stop that before people start getting the wrong idea about you." Jace saw Jonathan's face shift, just the slightest bit, like he was hurt by the comment, yet his expression remained smiling. Each time he noticed something about Jonathan, the same thought kept popping up in Jcae's head. _We're exactly alike._ The mannerisms, the way he responded with humor rather than a direct answer, it was all the same as Jace would. Like looking into a mirror and finding your reflection had stepped out and stood beside you.

Except they couldn't be alike. Shouldn't. Jonathan was still a murderer, a demon. At least, that's what Jace wanted to believe. That he was holding a criminal rather than making friends with one.

Unless Jonathan wasn't a criminal.

Unless he really was different.

Jace tried to play out the scenarios in his head. If Jonathan was still a demon, still "Sebastian", he'd kill him. If he wasn't…

Then what? The Lightwoods would never be able to forgive him, not after Max, even if he was different. He still wore the same face, the same voice.

And Clary. Clary would have no reason to ever forgive her brother. No reason to accept him. No reason for her to ever see him, let alone her mother. The one who believed him to be dead. Who cried over her son's baby hairs every year.

_How would this ever work out?_

"Jace," Jonathan's voice brought him out of his reverie. "Jace, your eggs are burning." Jace snapped into attention and took his eggs off the stove, nearly scorching his hand as he transferred the sizzling pan over to a cool burner. He cursed under his breath as he waved his hand to clear the faint grey smoke that was coming from the blackened eggs.

"Anyway, so the idea," Jace announced, spinning to face Jonathan, who looked half-awake. "The idea that may not be a good one that possibly won't even work."

"Well?" Jonathan pressed, apparently feeling impatient.

Jace sighed. "It involves Clary."

And suddenly it was like there was a fire in Jonathan's eyes, a flash of recognition and a flipbook of memories, dark memories, pained ones, like he was afraid. Then Jace remembered what Jonathan had said about living in his own body while Sebastian ruled, how it was like he was in a cage as someone else controlled your life. He had watched himself nearly kill his own sister, and not a thing there was he could do about it.

"Is it dangerous?" Jonathan questioned, staring cautiously at Jace, who was staring back at him.

Jace frowned. "Well, the first bit involves a book. The Gray Book, actually."

"The Gray Book?"

Jace didn't seem to acknowledge Jonathan's interruption; he plowed through. "The Gray Book, with all the permitted runes for Shadowhunters, possibility even one to see if you are truly…" Jace paused, and looked up at Jonathan, at the green eyes and the easy smile. "Cured." The smile wavered, but only slightly. Jonathan nodded, urging Jace to continue.

"Because if we don't have to get Clary involved, then I don't want to put her in danger. By now, the Clave is probably looking for us both, and if they find us, I can't think of any Shadowhunter who wouldn't kill you on sight."

Jonathan's face was emotionless, almost exasperated. "Funny how raising a demon army might get you into trouble one day, hmm?"

"And me too," Jace added. "I'm affiliated with you now, surely, after they found both of us gone from that rooftop. So it's not like I can just pop over there and they'll welcome me back openly."

Jonathan nodded again. "So if the rune isn't in the Gray Book? Then what?"

Jace gave a small grin. "Well that's where your sister comes in. Magical rune girl, remember? She could create a rune, one that isn't in the book, one to see if you are cured once and for all."

Jonathan didn't smile back. His voice was quiet, unsure. "But what if I'm not, Jace?"

Jace, who had begun to climb the stairs to change, glanced back. "What?"

"What if I'm not cured?" Jonathan asked again, voice cracking just a bit at the end. "What if this—me—is only temporary. Then what?"

Jace stopped in his tracks, full turning to loom at Jonathan. The other boy looked longing, yet regretful, like he knew what would happen if they found demon blood still in him. Jace's mouth opened, but he had no answer. What could be said? "_Oh, then I'll just kill you. Easy peasy."_

"The New York Institute's library should be empty right now. Get dressed." Jace said curtly, before rushing up the rest of the stairs so he couldn't see Jonathan's expression any longer.

When he came back down, Jonathan was waiting, fully dressed with black gear, his sword on his back. Jace glanced down at himself, wearing a pair of jeans and a jacket over a t-shirt. "I'm not expecting a fight, Jonathan."

Jonathan looked skeptical. "Like you said, they'll kill me on sight. I want to be prepared." Jace nodded in understanding. "And Jace," Jonathan added. Jace had started moving again, this time for the ring he'd left on the table. The ring to transport them to the Institute. Home. "I just wanted to say thank you."

Jace looked at Jonathan then, really looked at him and saw the glint in his eyes. The same glint that was in Clary's. The one of hope. The one no demon could ever have. Jace walked over to Jonathan and placed a hand on his shoulder, awkwardly, before removing it again. "You're not Sebastian. You never were Sebastian. And if he comes back, if this is temporary, then I swear to you, I'll find a way to get you back. Permanently. Because you deserve a second chance when you never even got a first one."

Jonathan looked away, his eyes bright and watery. "Don't get too sentimental on me, Jace." He joked, but his voice cracked at the end, betraying his lighthearted tone. "Save some of that for my sister."

Jace smiled. Not an arrogant one, not a smirk or even a grin. Just a genuine smile. "The Institute?" he asked, offering his arm. Jonathan took it, and looked at Jace again, without any sign of sadness. Just hope.

"The Institute," he replied, taking Jace's arm. Turning the ring, Jace closed his eyes. And they disappeared.


	5. Library

"_I think that is quite enough for today," she said. "Return to me with the rings and we will speak again."_

_Clary hesitated, turning to look at Alec, and then Isabelle. "You're all right with this? Stealing from the Institute?"_

"_If it means finding Jace," Isabelle said._

_Alec nodded. "Whatever it takes."_

* * *

"You were right, Jace," Sebastian mused after surveying the room the moment they appeared in the library of the New York Institute. "The place is deserted."

Jace was busy inhaling the room himself, the scent, the aura of the library getting taken in, like he'd never see it again. Because who knows, maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he'd be on the run with Jonathan for the rest of his life. He tried to imagine the two of them as wrinkly old men, fighting demons in Amsterdam, but the image didn't surface. Instead, Jace basked in the pale sunlight of the library, his lungs filling with the musty smell of books and Hodge.

Hodge. Jace's mind flooded with the scene of his death, of the way Sebastian had stabbed him in Alicante. He pushed the thoughts aside.

"I'm always right, Jonathan," he replied. Jonathan, who was skimmed Hodge's desk, let out a little snort. "You ought to know that about me by now." Jonathan gave him a measured look, and then a smile.

"So where do we find this Gray Book? Every Institute seems to keep it in a different place," Jonathan asked as he skimmed a section of books, reading off titles. "_History of the Kindjal and Other Exotic Weaponry. Fall of the Automatons. _Is there any order to this chaos?" He scoffed, snorting at the seemingly disorganized shelves.

"Not really," Jace called, without looking up from the stack of papers he was disassembling. Mostly letters and things. The words, 'Valentine' and 'the Circle' found Jace's gaze, and he quickly tossed that paper aside, not wanting to divulge further. "The library isn't alphabetized. It follows Hodge's special system."

Jace heard the sound of shuffling books pause, and he could sense Jonathan's recognition of Hodge's name, the pound of guilt swaying him. He didn't say anything, didn't apologize, but Jace could feel the words out of Jonathan almost as if they were in his own head. The connection between the two was becoming more and more apparent, Jace found. He mentally accepted the apology, and continued his own rummaging. Beneath the papers, Jace noticed the corner of a worn, green cover, and picked it up, sending papers pouring over the edges of the desk.

Jonathan continued. "_The Care and Feeding of Your Pet Imp. Demons Revealed._" He plucked the last one off the shelf and, opening it, let out a long, low chuckle.

"What is it?" Jace asked, poking his head up from Hodge's paper-filled desk. He gripped his own prize and bounded over to Jonathan, eyes resting on the page the other boy was laughing about.

"It's pornography," chuckled Jonathan. "Look. Demons…_revealed._"

Jace, came up behind him, resting one hand on Jonathan's arm for balance as he looked over his shoulder, furrowing his brow. "Okay, how can you _tell_?"

Jonathan shut the book and hit Jace lightly on the shoulder with it. "Some things I know more about than you. What's that?" He asked, referring to the book in Jace's hand.

Jace raised the book to show Jonathan the title. "It's the Gray Book. I was going to let you wander around for hours looking for it, but I decided to be nice. Hodge always keeps it on his desk. Usually under a tornado," he added, gesturing to the explosive mountain of disorderly papers.

"Good." Jonathan took the book from Jace just as he placed the pornography back in its place. Jace pretended not to notice the other boy flinching at Hodge's name again. Instead, he turned back to the desk, where spilling papers revealed intruders. Jace glanced back at Jonathan, who was skimming through the Gary Book carelessly.

"Careful," Jace warned. "I don't want to have to drag your unconscious body back to the apartment because you took in too many runes at once."

Jonathan snorted. "I'm stronger than you think, Jace. Stronger than you, in fact. You just clean up your mess and we'll be off."

Jace's fingers were straightening papers without much concentration, picking some up off the ground and tossing them back on the desk without a system. Hodge was never neat, anyway. "Actually, do we have time to go by my room? If I could get some of my stuff…"

"What do you want?"

Jace shrugged. "Clothes mostly, some weapons."

Jonathan shook his head. "Too dangerous. Only emergency items. You said that yourself, and you're the boss."

"My favorite jacket is an emergency item," Jace replied. "Much like myself, it is both snuggly _and_ fashionable."

"Jace," Jonathan sounded like his resolve was wavering, like he didn't want to argue with Jace much longer. Even though Jace knew Jonathan was right, he could help but want his stuff for a small bit of familiarity in the foreign environment of Valentine's apartment. "Look," he heard Jonathan say, "We have all the money we could want. _Buy_ clothes. We've got the book. Now let's get out of here before someone comes." His voice sounded almost pleading.

Jace sighed, and then nodded before walking over to Jonathan. "Hold on to that book," he said, taking hold of Jonathan's wrist gently. Just before twisting the ring, Jace looked up and saw a bit of red tendrils between the railings of the gallery on the second-floor balcony.

Clary?

Jace's fingers moved without him knowing and he twisted the ring, disappearing before he could look any further.

* * *

After the not-yet familiar sensation of being transported by the ring, Jace found himself staring at glass spiral staircase of the apartment. Cursing, he dropped his hand from Jonathan and began to pace. Was that really Clary? What could she have seen? Jace's eyes widened as he thought of what it must have looked like to her. Jace, working with, even leading Clary's evil brother, the brother she knew killed Max. He spun around to look at Jonathan, who was watching him.

"Jace?" Jonathan asked. "What's wrong?" He was looking at him like Jace was a frightened dog. "If you really want your jacket that badly, we can go back."

Jace shook his head, trying to clear his mind of what he was imagining, that could only be described as the worst scenario possible. "I think I saw Clary," he breathed.

"In the Institute?" Jonathan's head tilted. "Are you sure you saw her? Or do you just wish you did?"

Jace stopped pacing, thinking back. "I don't know," he admitted. "Let's just go through this stupid book and hope the rune is there." He sat down at a bar stool in the kitchen, with Jonathan following behind him silently.

"Not too much at once, right?" Jonathan said.

"Right," Jace agreed. "You start in the back, I start in the front. When one of us starts getting dizzy, we take a break. I want this settled before dusk." He flipped open the first page, the rune for Clairvoyant Sight staring at him, matching the rune on his left hand. "Let's get started."

**AN: You guys probably know already that the italics are straight from CoLS, but that's okay because it's mostly just exposition. As for Jace and Jonathan's part, I try to keep it as close to canon as possible without it being canon, yaknowwhatImean? All the credits go to Cassie Clare, still.**

**(Also, do it bother anyone else that Jonathan's name on Fanfiction's character choices is spelled Jonath****on****? Because it bothers me)**

**Enjoy! Share your opinions, too, if you're so inclined. Thanks!**


	6. Bound

Stamina, Fortitude, Insight, Equilibrium… As Jace went through each page, his eyes grew heavier and heavier. The end of the Book was near, or rather, the middle was. He and Jonathan sat side by side on the kitchen stools, turning page by page, looking for any rune that might be helpful. How funny they must have looked; to be able to both look at the Book simultaneously forced each boy to nearly rest their head on the counter to see the page properly. Jace didn't want to stop now, couldn't stop; they were so close; he could feel it. Strangely, the dizziness hadn't overtaken him yet. His stubborn motivation refused himself a break, so neither had Jonathan. Suddenly, as his eyes fell on the rune for Mourning, his mind screamed. It felt like someone was Marking his brain, like a painful dagger around his thoughts. Jace abruptly let go of the Book and turned away, far from the runes, head reeling in pain. It was like each rune he'd viewed finally caught up to him, and the edges of his vision darkened. Something moved in front of Jace, probably Jonathan making sure was okay, but he couldn't focus any longer, couldn't remain awake…

The stool was higher off the ground than Jace remembered, and his head greeted the tiled floor with a thump.

* * *

Jace woke up soaking wet with cold, cold water. Sputtering and gasping, he sat up, which was a bad idea. His head immediately protested by pounding Jace with a round of painful aches, but with the cold all over him, the pain was hardly noticeable. Looking around for something to warm himself, Jace finally noticed the boy standing in front of him with a towel in one hand, a bucket in the other.

"Jonathan," Jace pointed out dumbly, like he was surprised of the other boy's presence. He could seem to say much more than that; his lips were numb. Reaching for the towel, Jace stood up and found a stool to sit on.

Jonathan answered Jace's unstated question. "You've been out for about a half an hour, if you're wondering. Actually, _we've_ been out for about a half an hour. It was weird. I wake up on the floor with you unconscious beside me; that was disorienting. I thought you were dead at first, you looked so still." Jonathan dropped the bucket and took a seat next to Jace. "Last thing I remember was looking through the Gray Book and suddenly feeling like someone was slicing my head open. I knew runes made you dizzy, I just didn't know it was _that_ extreme."

Jace was resting his head on his elbow, eyebrows furrowed. "That's exactly how I felt before I blacked out." He glanced over to the green cover of the Gray Book. "And we didn't even find anything useful."

"That's the other thing," Jonathan said as if he just remembered something. "I looked through the rest of the runes while you were out. Nothing."

Jace looked at the other boy. "You looked through the rest of the pages? Didn't your head hurt when you woke up? Because this," he grunted, combing his fingers through his curls with a pained grin, "is worse than a hangover."

Jonathan shrugged. "Maybe you took in more than I did."

Something was bugging Jace, pulling at the back of his mind, but he didn't know what. He shook the feeling off. "The important thing is that we still don't have a rune to use."

"So… Clary?" Jonathan asked hesitantly, aware of Jace's apprehension to her involvement.

"So, Clary," Jace sighed. He got up and headed toward the stairs. "Let me grab my stele and Mark myself with an-"

Jace was cut off by the rug in front of the stairs that his foot had tripped on. Falling, Jace gracefully grabbed the railing for guidance, but ended up banging his knee on that instead. "Damn headache," he mumbled to the steps.

Jace heard a grunt from the kitchen. "I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking," he called in the direction of Jonathan.

"Um, Jace?" Jonathan called back, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Jace stood up and turned toward Jonathan, who was currently staring down at his own knee resting on the stool. "What is it?" Jace questioned.

"You didn't happen to hit your knee when you fell, did you?" Jonathan's tone was strange, almost frightened.

This only made Jace more confused. "Yeah, I did," he snapped, feeling like there was something everyone but him knew. "You saw me, didn't you?"

Jonathan shook his head, finally looking up to Jace. "I didn't," he insisted. "I felt it."

Jace's voice was a blank canvas, rough, never used. "What do you mean, you felt it?"

Jonathan didn't answer. Instead, it was like he was working something out, something important. "When I came back from the dead," he began. "When Lilith made that rune, the one that-that connected us, you don't think…?"

"What," Jace snorted, finally getting what he was saying. "That the connection is still there? Impossible."

"Is it?" Jonathan asked rhetorically. "Because I just felt a knock on my knee when I did absolutely nothing." He reached down to his boot where he pulled out a dagger, and, before Jace could stop him, made a clean slice down his palm. Jace's own hand jerked in discomfort and he lifted it up. A new cut, exactly the same as the one Jonathan made, had appeared. Jace stared in amazement at the line of beading blood, unable to process exactly what was happening.

"What does this mean?" he whispered, mostly to himself.

Jonathan pulled out a stele and grabbed Jace's hand, making a small _iratze_ over the cut, which quickly turned white as the cut healed. He held up his own hand, which too was healed. "It means," he answered, putting the stele away, "we are bound."

* * *

Jace sat in his room staring down at his palm. He no longer had a headache, yet he couldn't seem to wrap his brain around the meaning of the connection. It was Lilith's rune that had linked them in the first place, right? And that was gone, completely. That's the reason for Jonathan being Jonathan and not Sebastian.

Unless…this proved that there was still a bit of demon left in Jonathan. Maybe the other boy just didn't know it. Maybe he didn't how to control, when it would show up, how to get rid of it. And that was dangerous.

Jace took off the jacket he'd been wearing, feeling suddenly stuffy and short of breath. He got up and bounded down the glass staircase to where Jonathan was waiting in the den. "You can't come to see Clary with me," Jace blurted in an unexpectedly harsh voice.

Jonathan showed no sign of surprise. He looked up at Jace calmly. "Why not?" he asked.

"Because," Jace insisted, unsure of what his reason was. Actually, he knew his exact reason being the fact that if Jonathan came while they were connected, Jonathan could at any moment be replaced by Sebastian, which Jace wouldn't allow in the vicinity of Clary. But he couldn't say this to Jonathan. "Because Clary hates you, remember? You're still Sebastian to her."

Jonathan seemed to mull this over. "I still think I have the right to come, Jace." He didn't sound mad, but Jace raised his eyebrows. "What if there are Shadowhunters waiting at her house to see if you show up and come in contact with her? And you're a great fighter and all, but you'd be no match for five, maybe six well-trained adult Shadowhunters. If I came, well, I'm just as good as you." Jonathan looked like he was trying to read Jace's expression, which remained the same. "Maybe even better," he added. Jace gave no sign of wavering.

"How's this," Jonathan tried. "We appear outside her door, you go in and explain the situation to her, get her on board. Meanwhile, I'm standing guard, out of sight, and we disappear before she has time to hate me."

Jonathan's argument still didn't outweigh Jace's own, yet still in the back of Jace's mind he felt a tug, like deep down inside he really wanted Jonathan by his side. But it was more than that. It was their connection, that sympathy in understanding how Jonathan felt. Jonathan just wanted to make it up to Clary, to make things right with his sister he has never gotten to see without a tyrant at the helm of his own body. Jace felt a wave of understanding unintentionally wash through his mind, and he succumbed.

He nodded at Jonathan, who immediately understood his meaning, jumped up from the sofa, and slung his arm around Jace's shoulders. "You know, you're a real nice guy when you're not being an asshole," he grinned.

"Don't make me change my mind," Jace warned, but he had a smile on his face, too. "She'll be at Luke's," he said as he fumbled with the ring. "We'll start there."

Jonathan's grin was imprinted on Jace's brain as they disappeared.


End file.
